


Vielleicht dieses Mal

by Corus



Series: Vienna Verse [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Drama, Getting Together, Growing Up, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-04-07 21:58:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19093918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corus/pseuds/Corus
Summary: Basch made the decision to study in Vienna in pursuit of a lost dream, following the loss of the future he'd always imagined for himself.Roderick returned to his studies following the end of his three-year long engagement with the person whom he believed to be the love of his life, learning she'd never - and could never - love him in the same way.Along the way, they find each other, and might just manage to create a new future of their shattered pieces put together.





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot believe I've been dragged down to the trash that is Hetalia again. Unbelievable.  
> (Although I would lie if I claimed not to kinda love it.)

It was as though time slowed down, if only to provide Basch with adequate amount of time to predict thousands of possible outcomes from his thoughtless oversight. He’d been wandering down the streets of Vienna, his gaze strictly directed towards his feet, with his hair falling around his face, skillfully blocking any of his peripheral vision, when he accidently walked right into [a ladder], on which hung several cans of paint, with and without their lid. Thankfully, no person had been climbing the ladder at that very moment, unfortunately however, this also meant there were no weight to counter his collision. Resulting in splashes of white, blue, and red flying towards any flat surface within its reach. Which happened to partially take the shape of Basch himself, as he begrudgingly felt himself become the target of all three colours, certainly ruining the clothes he was wearing, and likely threatening the survival of at least part of his hair. 

Armed with a pair of scissors, which he’d previously found when scouring the kitchen once it was finally empty, Basch was observing his reflection, leaning over the sink in order to get a closer look at the mess which was his current appearance. A result of his own short-sightedness, as he’s been wandering down the streets of Vienna, in a hurry to get back home from work, when he accidently walked right into a ladder, on which hung several cans of paint, with and without their lid. Thankfully, no person had been climbing the ladder at that very moment, unfortunately however, this also meant there were no weight to counter his collision. Resulting in splashes of white, blue, and red flying towards any flat surface within its reach. Which happened to partially take the shape of Basch himself, as he begrudgingly felt himself become the target of all three colours, certainly ruining the clothes he was wearing, and likely threatening the survival of at least part of his hair. 

As result, his second-favourite beret was now beyond recognition, and his jacket had likewise been ruined. Due to the rather thin fabric of said jacket, the t-shirt he’d worn underneath was endured similar consequences, and would also be relegated to wear strictly used for whenever he’d find himself painting, or executing similarly messy tasks. With these exceptions however, he’d been lucky enough for his remaining clothing to get off relatively unscathed, although his left boot now suffered a rather noticeable splash of white, whilst the right had been subject for a more discreet dash of blue; otherwise his trousers sported no evidence of the accident, nor did his gloves. His hair, whilst not as drenched as he’d feared, did not escape scatheless, and the strands falling next to his fringe on the left side of his face were the affirmation of this. Thankfully, his cap had miraculously protected the rest of his hair, and Basch had been silently thanking whatever higher power might be for his choice to hide his nest beneath the cap this morning, in an effort to conceal its current greasiness. Although he’d been lucky it hadn’t been worse, Basch remained seething over his lack of attention, and awareness of his surroundings. Had he only made sure to keep his eyes on the road in front of him, this entire ordeal would have been avoided, but no, he had to be the idiot staring at his own feet, prioritising circumventing accidental eye contact, rather than adhering to common decency. He kicked the wall to his side as a way to release tension, though that only made his shoeless foot hurt, causing him to jump around the tiny bathroom which barely had enough room for him to stand still, looking like a complete fool.In his refuelled state of rage, he forthwith grabbed the offending strands of hair, raising the scissors to cut it off - however, when closing the blades around the paint-coated hair, he only succeed in bending it, with the exception of an insignificant number of hairs falling off as result. 

Right as he was about to simply use the blades of the scissors as a knife and cut his hair off that way, his anger growing exponentially alongside the redness of his face, he could hear his sister’s ringtone emerge from his phone, which he’d left behind in his room. Even though he for a brief second debated whether he should continue his endeavor of ridding himself of his hair, and call her back later, he immediately discarded that thought and left the bathroom to answer; feeling ashamed for doing as much as even considering ignoring his sister in favour of an act which he would regret the morning after anyway; if he were lucky, she might be able to help him figure out how to get the scissors to work.

“Hello, brother ! I hope your day has been well ?” his sister greeted him sweetily, causing the ghost of a smile to instantly take shape, as he sat down at his desk, starting to fiddle with a pen in order to give Erika his full attention.

“Good afternoon, how are you doing ? Have you been taking care of Eiger, Jungfrau, and Mönch ? Has mother looked after you ?” Basch replied, purposefully avoiding her question, instead bombarding her with the same questions he asked every night since he’d moved here, and every single time she’d given him the same answers - ‘I’m well, though I miss you a lot. The goats are doing well, and mother is mother’.

“... and you know how mother is.” Erika giggled, and Basch realized he’d spaced out. Shit ! Hopefully today hadn’t been the day to break away from what had become the standard over the course of the past week.

“I suppose…” he answered, sighing, “and I miss you too, of course.” he did regret how stern he sounded when he said that, but it was an unintentional reflex he'd unfortunately adapted.

“I believe you must have missed my initial question, big brother - I asked whether your day has been well ?” Of course she wouldn’t allow him to slip her by so easily. He wouldn’t have raised her in any other way. Regardless, keeping his mistakes to himself would only be yet another foolish decision, considering his sister’s experiences with cutting hair, acting as a hairdresser for the two of them.

“Well, actually…” he started, rubbing his temples as he tried to find a way to ask for her help without presenting himself as the dullard he’d been, “I have succeeded to get paint in some parts of my hair, and the scissors I tried using to cut it off wouldn’t cooperate. Do you have any idea of what I can do to fix it ?”

His question was initially met by silence, which lasted long enough for him to grow anxious in anticipation of her response; of course, this apprehension was unfounded enough to lack any specific fear of what kind of reaction Erika would give him which would give reason for his worry; although such reasoning had yet to ever prevent his anxiety from acting up.

“... Please tell me you didn’t cut your hair off” Erika finally said, and by the sound of her voice, Basch could only imagine her staring up at him with a numbness to her big, green eyes.

“Ehm, no ? Only a few hairs were cut off, the rest just bent a bit ?” He said, dumbly. Although he could hear Erika release an audible sound of relief on the other side.

“Good. Because I turned to google, and all you need is a comb, shampoo, water, and patience. Although I know the latter can be quite challenging.” she giggled again, and yet Basch could barely describe her final comment as teasing, due to the inherent kindness of her voice. Then her laughter died abruptly, and her silence carried a serious tone to it. He knew what her question would be; it, too, had become part of her routine - in contrast to the other questions, however, it was one she’d asked for almost a year now. “How did your clothes fare ?”

“Well, the t-shirt and jacket are lost as casual clothing, although I am keeping them for any case where I’ll be in need of clothes which I have no issue seeing ruined.” He said, “Although I do regret that I’ll likely need to go looking for a new jacket…”

“Don’t you have the green one you got from uncle ?” Erika asked, and the breath in Basch’s hitched, as he’d seriously considered sending it back ever since he refused to unpack it.

“You know I can’t” was his only answer, staring intensely at a point of his wall. Erika sighed as she began giving the same answer as she’d given as other time they’d found themselves having this discussion,

“Of course you can - you’ve been wearing it before, why not now ?”

“It’s not  _ that _ \- it’s a military jacket, Erika, and it’s disrespectful for anyone outside the military to wear their uniform.”

“It’s a military  _ styled _ jacket- not an actual uniform. Military inspired wear has been a trend loads of times, nobody minds.” Erika sighed, it was a though they were reading from a script.

“Well, I still don’t like it - it still succeeds to remind of what could have been, and I’d rather not have this conversation.” He said, determinedly, but no way near harshly.

“Did you take your medication this morning ?”

“I did. I told you that I wouldn’t try going without it again; except for medical reasons, of course.” He knew she’d ask that, even though this was a continuation of a discussion neither of them found any pleasure having. Most of all, he felt guilt that they somehow had ended up in a position where she was watching over him, rather than the other way around. Erika was only 16, she shouldn’t be burdened by thoughts of her big brother’s health. Still, he wasn’t  _ sick _ \- he wouldn’t die if he didn’t take it, it was a  _ disorder _ ; his medicine helped him managing his everyday life, it didn’t keep him alive. 

“My apologies” she answered courtly, “Nevertheless, concerning your hair, I would recommend letting it soak in warm water and shampoo for a bit, before carefully removing the paint,  _ carefully _ .” 

“Not cautiously then ?” Basch replied, happy they’d abandoned the brief gloom for a more lighthearted tone.

They conversed for an additional hour, before Erika confessed she’d yet to finish her homework, following which they exchanged they goodbyes, and good wishes. Basch was well aware their ceremonious formality might appear strange and cold to an outside observer, however formality was familiar for the two of them, and instead, the relaxed expectations of their peers had always been quite stressful for the two of them; although Erika managed to charm her fellows to greater success that Basch could ever dream of. When they finally hung up, the clock had turned five, and Basch figured he might as well follow his sister’s instructions. Walking back to the bathroom, he discovered he’d left the light on, and had simply dropped the scissors on the floor the moment he’d made the decision to take the call. Cursing the waste of energy, as well as the resulting affect this would’ve had on his bill were he not living in a dormitory, he cleaned up the mess before spending the next thirty minutes numbly combing his hair, seeing the paint loosen as he followed his sister’s instructions. His roommate would be moving in later this week, and Basch hoped he’d be able to conceal this kind of forgetfulness to them, not wanting to make a fool out of himself; at the very least not in the very beginning of their acquaintance. When the paint was finally gone, he drenched the bits of hair in conditioner, and dried it enough to be able to keep it in overnight. 

The rest of his evening looked kind of the same as he’d closed each day since he moved here; he put the correct dose of ritalin next to his bed, alongside a glass of water. Following which he put forth clothing for the next day, and when it was nearing 8pm, he would move towards the kitchen, and were it empty, he would make something quick to eat, before erasing any sign of his presence, escaping back to the safety of his dorm. When the person with whom he’d share a bathroom finally moved in during the week, he would need to become acquainted with the idea of being seen by, and talking with, the people of his corridor (or, at least one). Or he could keep doing his very best to avoid such happenstances. Along with dinner, he would take the medication he’d been prescribed to combat his sleeping disorder, which would then start working within approximately 2 hours.

Finally, as he laid to bed to rest, he would find himself occupied with thoughts of the brown-haired child whom he’d only briefly befriended during his childhood, who pathetically enough was partially the reason as to why he’d moved to the city in the first place; only to unwillingly wonder if they’d ever meet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for this chapter consisting only of exposition, some half-hearted attempts of setting up theme, and unclear character set up. It gets better I swear.
> 
> Special thanks to adoropomodoro for beta-reading. This would have been even shittier w/o u.


	2. Warring Sighs and Groans I'll Wage Thee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed the way I spell Roderick’s name from Roderich to Roderick. I’ll edit chapter one when I have the time.  
> (We <3 consistency don’t we)
> 
> Chapter Title: Taken from Ae Fond Kiss, by Robert Burns.

When Basch was walking home a couple of days after his adventure with the paint and the ladder, he made sure to keep his head up high enough to keep his eyes on the path ahead of him. He’d been taking a walk around the city, despite it being his day off from work. Hoping to avoid being at home when his roommate would arrive, thus avoiding the tension of him trying to help them unpack - being too polite not to offer - only to prove to be more of a burden than of actual assistance. The past near-two weeks of living by himself had been comfortable, and he was slightly worried of sharing space with a stranger - especially since they only had one room, alongside the bathroom. The kitchen, as well as some communal spaces and a terrace, were all shared with the rest of the corridor.

When he finally arrived home, he found the place in complete disarray, with boxes of stuff blocking most of the entrance, positing a serious danger were there to erupt any fires. Even more concerning, however, was the presence of not the sound of one person moving around, but the noise of two people conversing. He announced his presence by knocking on the doorframe, to which two pairs of eyes turned to look at him, both of them belonging to two blondes; where the man had a pair of abhorrent eyebrows, and the girl’s hair was held back in a ribbon. When they opened their mouths however, to his utter dismay, he discovered that he barely understood that they were saying.

“Hello,” he started nervously, highly aware of his atrocious accent, “I speak no English - you speak German ?” he tried to gesture with his hands as he spoke, although this might have been proven more confusing than it was helpful. The blondes in front of him went from looking at him cheerfully, to glancing at each other nervously, before immediately chattering among themselves. He was about to ask whether either of them spoke French or Italian instead, when they finally answered him.

“Bathroom, German friend” the lady began, also gesturing dramatically in order to prove her point. They must have looked like complete fools to an outsider.

The following minute felt as though it span over an eternity, as they waited in awkward silence for this friend to return. Inwardly, Basch was lamenting his luck of being placed with someone who didn’t speak any of the major European languages, with the exception of English; the only one outside Basch’s capabilities. When the sound of running water finally made itself known, the three blondes all turned towards the bathroom door, and to Basch’s horror, he recognised the person he saw next. The carefully styled hair, the black gloves, and a fucking _jabot_ \- Basch knew instantly this was the same boy he’d been dreaming of for the past decade. He’d grown tall, and despite his frivolous presentation, Basch couldn’t deny that he was good-looking; no matter how much he wanted to. 

Roderick asked something in heavily accented English, his voice trembling in a manner which revealed his discomfort, even though his otherwise poise mannerism said otherwise.

The woman began speaking again, in a clearly frustrated tone; yet not malicious; presumingly explaining the situation to the newcomer. Giving Basch enough time to hopefully escape his frozen state, cursing the situation he found himself in. After a short while, the three strangers turned towards him once more, where Roderick welcomed him back to the conversation by allowing a deep sigh, shaking his head as though he were scolding a child. Which only giving Basch’s irritation reason to expand. 

“So, my friends tell me you don’t speak English ?” The brunette began, and his German has such a strong Austrian accent, Basch briefly wondered whether it was on purpose.

“That’s correct” Basch replied matter-of-factly. Growing suspicious of the Austrian’s patronizing tone; although there was something within those violet eyes which revealed something else, however Basch couldn’t quite identify what.

“How can you not speak English ? It’s 2018. Being bilingual is the European standard among millennials, you know.”

The openly antagonistic comment initially stunned him, leaving Basch in silent shock for a few moments, before trying to gather himself in order to provide a more helpful answer. He was above such childish bickering, even though it hurt him hearing such words coming from the person he’d unwillingly dreamt about for a decade. “I speak Swiss German, Standard German, French, Italian, and Romansh. Multilingualism isn’t the issue in this situation.” He started, allowing his gaze to transform into a glare. ”Moreover, I am no stranger to English, I can read and write just fine, My issues are inherent to the oral communication.” His answer was delivered with a detached, unvarnished, voice, although the twitching of his eyebrow revealed his irritation. His annoyance was only further fuelled by the fact he had to look _up_ in order to glare at the Austrian. 

For a short second, it seemed as though Basch had succeed to throw Roderick off-guard, and he would swear the other froze momentarily, clearly expecting a more riled-up response from the Swiss. However, this lasted short enough to be missed by the blink of an eye, and soon, the brunette resumed his haughty stance before opening his mouth once more,“Well then, if you are such a master of languages, then why is your English so poor ? Clearly, if languages aren’t your problem, then the fault must lie with your priorities.”

Before Basch had the chance to call out the Austrian’s undignified behaviour, he suddenly found himself facing a blonde head of hair, as the lady had apparently decided to step in between them, probably wishing to elude any potential conflict growing between the two. Which embarrassed him, since Basch prided himself upon his neutrality and avoidance of conflicts - especially the petty kind, which was what this conversation were escalating into. Found himself wishing she was the one moving in, imagining they might have a chance to get along. Unlike the disappointment of his childhood friend.

The woman turned to him after a few moments, with a surprisingly genuine smile on her lips, “My name is Laura,” she said slowly, obviously trying her best to get this to work.

Whilst Basch appreciated her efforts, he also had the decency to feel flustered by the fact that he’d yet to introduce himself, fearing the awful impression he must have made. He sheepishly accepted her handshake, and replied with his own name. The other blond was having a conversation on his phone, although Basch couldn’t recall when he’d gone away. It took another moment before Laura cleared her throat, and if Basch’s peripheral vision was right, also elbowed the brunette’s side, before Roderick finally followed her lead and introduced himself. Thus, as Basch now met his eyes, he realised the Austrian had no idea who he was. Which shouldn’t hurt as much as it did; despite the antagonistic behaviour he’d been shown thus far. Of course Roderick didn’t remember him- who the fuck remembered a brief friendship ten years in the past? Nobody with friends, that’s for sure.

“I’m Roderick Edelstein” he said in German, now shaking Basch’s hand in a respectful manner, despite the insults he’d spat only moments ago. “I would say it is a pleasure to meet you, however I would like to refrain from giving the impression of a liar.” he then continued, allowing a teasing smirk to grow on his lips. Basch, stunned once more, was at a loss of how he was supposed to react. Whilst he showed no hesitation when cursing people  whilst in private, he never did so in front of anyone. A result of wanting to avoid conflicts no matter the price, as well as his general social persona being a strange combination of polite sophistication and discomfiture. Despite the enmity, however, Basch was still convinced of the glimt in Roderick’s eyes revealing something else; at the very least, it seemed as though the Austrian was teasing him, rather than outright insulting him. Although who would act in such a manner towards a stranger (a thought which hurt, even if Basch wanted to pretend otherwise), Basch was at a loss.

Laura was the one to finally break the silence once more, by allowing a rather tense laughter, only to later look at him, and say something in English he did not quite understand, only for Roderick to open his mouth once more.

She must have asked him to translate, then.

“Laura’s wondering if you would agree to her hosting a housewarming gathering on Friday,” he said, and seemed to contemplate whether he should say something else, however he seemed to decide against it. 

Basch wanted to say no - he wanted to say no _so badly_ . He had nowhere to be on a Friday; and he sure as hell didn’t want to be wandering the streets alone at that time. Then yet again, neither did he wish to be thrown into immediate conflict with the person he’d be spending much of his time with - especially considering the poor start they’d already suffered. At least this pretty much confirmed it was the woman - _Laura_ \- with whom he’d share a room - better than the man who’d yet to say a word to him, or the disappointment Roderick turned out to be. 

“Of course” he answered, in a manner which manifested his actual discomfort quite plainly. At least it wasn’t a party - if it had been, Roderick would have said so, right ? Rather than referring to it as a ‘gathering’; which was a term Basch hadn’t quite expected hearing from a student, but he was far from an expert in any sociability. When Roderick turned around to translate his answer to his friends, Laura appeared to be surprised, which was likely a result of Basch’s ill-suited tone. She quickly started beaming, however, and despite his internal screaming, Basch was happy to see her reaction. At least he hadn’t screwed up as much as he could have, he supposed.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, I promise Roderick’s overt antagonism isn’t a mischaracterisation: It’s connected to the theme & the plot.
> 
> Regarding Basch’s English-speaking abilities.  
> In this story, I decided to have him spend his first years in Graubünden (German, Italian, Romansh(?)), before his family moved to his mother’s childhood home of Montreux, in canton Vaud (French). This is relevant due to the fact that Vaud belong to the Lemanique region. Which, I discovered, falls behind in regards to English-speaking. According to the English Proficiency Index conducted by EF, Switzerland is a 2nd tier English-speaking country (’High Proficiency’), however, this region (+ Ticino, & the Italian-speaking regions) only achieve the classification of ’Moderate Proficiency’. Based upon this, I made English a struggle for him.  
> I’m not from Switzerland - I’ve never been to Switzerland, thus it is very possible that I might be getting something wrong. I am doing research as an attempt to avoid making all too many mistakes, but I doubt none will occur.


	3. The Rose is Out of Town

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the delayed update; I have been travelling and have thus not had the time to sit down and write. This is, however, a much longer chapter than the previous two, so uh, yeah.
> 
> S/o to adoropomodoro for beta-ing, because I have barely done so (we die like men).
> 
> Title is from 'Autumn' by Emily Dickinson.

Roderick would leave them less than thirty minutes later, explaining he had an ‘appointment’ he was required to attend; although what kind of appointment would be scheduled past six pm on a Wednesday, was beyond Basch. In his absence, it would take Basch, Laura, and the final blonde, Francis, approximately 20 minutes to realise all of them spoke French. When Basch questioned Roderick’s decision not to reveal this earlier, the two simply laughed and waved him off, clearly hiding something, although Basch had no idea what that could possibly be.

Francis left after another hour and a half, at which point Laura had most of her things somewhat sorted, meaning they could move around the room freely once more. Basch would excuse himself from their growingly empty conversation once Erika called at quarter to eight , going to the other side of the room in a performance of privacy. Thus, when Laura made a show of donning her headphones, signalling to him that she respected this need of his, he felt immensely grateful. Even if he realised it wasn’t much - something told him Laura would do her best to ensure the comfort of them both, rather than just her own. 

"Hello" he greeted when picking up the phone, only to be saluted by the high-pitched voice of his sister, along with what he believed to be a quiet giggle. He was about to ask her what had her brought her such a joyous mood, before she initiated their typical line of conversation. Only interrupted once Erika asked how his day had been, to which he’d hesitated - which in turn immediately piqued her interest. Despite not asking what caused his hesitation directly, she would prod around the question, finally having gathered the information required to piece together a complete answer. She was clever, he’d give her that. 

"Your roommate moved in today, right ? Do you get along?" She asked, sweetly as ever. 

Basch glanced over at Laura, only to find her engrossed in her phone, seemingly texting someone based upon her smiles and typing. Even though he knew she didn’t understand him - even if she’d learnt basic German, she wouldn’t understand his Alemannic accent - he still found it uncomfortable discussing someone whilst they resided in the same room; even if he only had good things to say. 

"I suppose," he started, "She seems kind, and sociable." he then added, not wanting his sister to think he was lying in order to make her feel better; he was genuinely happy with Laura as his roommate. At least so far into their hours long relationship.

**.   .   .**

It would take another few days before Friday arrived, at which point Laura had revealed that it was, indeed, a party - not a ’gathering’; that this must have been an unfortunate misunderstanding. She’d asked if he was still okay with it, and even though the answer was no, he’d said yes, since refusing would only present him as a loner who refused to do anything for anyone. They were currently waiting for her brother, Lucien, who would be arriving in approximately 30 minutes, at 18; two hours prior to the start of the event. Basch was currently sitting on the corner of his bed, trying to read a book his sister had gotten him for his birthday, though his difficulties concentrating were made evident by his persistent fiddling with its old, jewel green, cover he’d found at a flea-market. Laura had been, with the exception of the occasional running out to get stuff, occupying the bathroom the past hour and a half, and despite her having warned him of this annexation prior to her seizure, he’d genuinely believed her to be joking. Erika had never been the one to take too much time getting ready - despite her upkept appearance, and thus Basch had presumed jokes shared about the time people would spend getting ready were exaggerated. Apparently, he’d been mistaken.

"Basch, could you be a dear and zip me up ?" He suddenly heard heard her call out, and instinctively stood up to heed her call, before hesitating outside the bathroom door, remembering that it wasn’t Erika calling on him, but a woman he’d only met a couple of days ago.

"Uhm, are you sure ?" He asked through the door, feeling flustered.

"Basch, I’ve been running around clad in nothing but a towel for the past 70 minutes - I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t fine with it" Laura answered, clearly amused by his hesitation. However, without seeing her face, he knew there was nothing malicious in her laughter. They’d only known each other for a few days, but Basch had yet to experience any animosity from his roommate - even though he was highly aware that his more reclusive habits might give rise to such a reaction.

"Alright then" he answered, "I’m opening the door," he warned, waiting a few seconds before fulfilling this promise, wanting to ensure Laura had the time to not appear indecent. Immediately, he was hit by the humid heat of the bathroom, the steam from her showering yet lingering, albeit only barely. Except for a few small pools of water remaining inside the shower, all evidence of Laura’s shower had vanished. Her golden hair was dry, and her usual waves had been arranged in slightly more elaborate curls, all held in place by one of her typical ribbons - this time in carmine, with her lips painted to match. Her eyes were left more subtle, with only a thin eyeliner ending with a tiny wing, and her lashes enhanced with mascara, but not to any extreme volumes, allowing her lips to be the centre of attention. She was holding up a celudan dress, which had a belt, also in carmine, at the waist, separating the more close-fitted top and A-line shaped skirt reaching just below her mid-thigh. 

"Took you long enough," she smiled, before turning her back towards him, revealing the open zipper stretching from her neck to her waist. Basch couldn’t help but notice how far apart she’s placed her legs, and yet he still had to stand on his toes in order to see comfortably. 

"... Aren’t you capable of zipping this up yourself ?" He asked, although he did so at the same time as he did what she asked for, making it a rather redundant question; however he was feeling flustered, and the silence made the air more difficult to breathe. 

"Do I look good ?" She asked, spinning around to face him, smiling brightly. He had no idea why she would avoid his question, however he decided not to investigate further. It wasn’t his business, anyways.

"You do." He answered instead, matter-of-factly. The colours went along beautifully, and fit her Spring colour scheme excellently. 

"Come on, you can be more expressive than that," she sighed jokingly, her bright smile betraying her playfulness, "But thank you, anyways." 

Having nothing to answer, Basch stood there awkwardly for a moment, before noticing the frown appearing on Laura’s face. 

"What is it ?" He asked defensively, feeling suddenly self-conscious.

"You’re not planning on wearing that, are you ?" Laura questioned, giving him a theatrical look-over. Basch turned to face his reflection, looking over his white dress-shirt and his beige slacks.

"There’s nothing wrong with what I’m wearing ?" He stated, albeit his defensiveness combined with his uncertainty turned it into an aggressive-sounding question.

"There’s nothing wrong with it, sure - but it’s _boring_ ," Laura smiled, and once more Basch was grateful for her ability to ignore his overt defensiveness. "Let me help you pick an outfit, please ?" 

"... You might assist" he said, rolling his eyes whilst fighting a smile when she let out an excited cheer. 

It would take them another 20 minutes to rummage through Basch’s wardrobe, during which Laura swore at 5 separate occasions that she would take the two of them out shopping - whether he wanted to or not. Finally, when Basch had barked that he really didn’t need to change for the 7th time, his patience having grown thin following the initial 2 insults towards his wardrobe, Laura finally found an outfit she deemed acceptable. Leaving him with the same white shirt, but this time with black slacks, and a pair of suspenders. With Laura insisting he should invest in a couple of bow ties, swearing she’d get him some cute ones as well.

At 18.07, Laura’s attempts to braid or otherwise style his hair were interrupted by a knock on the door. Laura forthwith left her place at Basch’s side, rushing to open the door. As the door opened to reveal the person on the other side, Basch could hear Laura squeal "Lucien!" before immediately embracing the person on the other side - going as far as to spin him around for a few spins before finally allowing him back onto the floor. 

Once he was standing on his own two feet again, he did so inside their shared room. Thus allowing Basch to see the winter blond hair styled in a way which allowed three quarters of it to fall over his face, whilst the final quarter was brushed neatly backed on his right side. He was dressed in white trousers and a matching vest, which he’d accompanied by a cornflower blue dress shirt, and a red necktie. He exuded elegance and opulence, in a way which irked Basch instinctively, finding any flaunting of wealth to be improper. As Basch gawked discourteously at the stranger, Lucien calmly fixed his hair and clothing, before turning to Basch with an outstretched hand and a small, but charming, smile. Somehow, Basch knew that Lucien was aware of his improper staring, causing him to stare slightly under the eyes of the slightly taller boy.

"Salutations, I’m Lucien, it’s a pleasure to meet you." His French was only a little more accented than Laura’s, however the difference was slight.

"Greetings. I’m Basch." He answered, shaking his hand, "Nice to meet you too." He then added, a bit too hastily, although the other didn’t seem to mind. Apparently, first impressions were, in the simplest of terms, not his thing. 

"Is it your first year here? What is it you’re studying?" Lucien continued, this time in a slightly heavier accented German, causing Laura to playfully punch his shoulder, telling him to "Stop flexing".

"National economy" He answered, sticking to French, "And you?" He then continued automatically, not accounting for the fact he wasn’t speaking to another student.

"I’m still in school - I’ll go to uni first next year," he answered politely, leaving Basch without any idea what to answer. Although he didn’t really know what he would have said had he been given any other answer, neither. Before he had to chance to embarrass himself further, however, Laura thankfully intervened, giving him the opportunity to stay silent.

"How’s Pelutze doing ? Is living with mum’s boyfriend still working out for you ? How’s dad and Emma ? Are you continuing to stay active in the student council ? Do you still enjoy your new job ? Are Isabel and Liam still dating ? How’s the start of term been ?" She bombarded, and Basch felt confused merely listening to the long list of questions - nevermind attempting to actually answering them all. Discreetly, he took a small step back, allowing Laura to more comfortably invade Lucien’s personal space.

"Pelutze’s doing great - she won the competition as well, to the surprise of the audience. Marc is fine, although it’s not been long enough for me to form a certain opinion just yet. Dad and Emma and doing good as well - they’ve started hiking as well, though it remains to see how long it’ll last. I am now Vice President of the council, in fact. My job is fine, my colleagues especially are great. Isabel and Liam are as lovey-dovey still, it’s almost becoming a tad bit too much. I’ve had most of my teachers in previous years, however I’m quite sure I’ve succeed to impress the new ones through either homework assignments or my contributions to class discussions." Lucien answered, in a way which wasn’t rushed, but didn’t delay too long to cause any confusion. Each time he answered another question, he made a slight shift in his position, indicating the change without looking theatrical or animated. Despite his grandeur, Basch couldn’t help but find himself slightly charmed to the calm, yet charismatic, teenager. "We met only 2 months ago, not much has changed."

"I’m glad to hear it" Laura smiled, ignoring his final comment, "However I hear you haven’t scaled down any of your commitments - instead, you’ve given yourself an even busier schedule." Her tone had made a swift change, and rather than the bubbly woman Basch had grown accustomed to over these past few days, she was now a stern older sister, utilising her superior height to tower over her younger brother - all without appearing intimidating, but instead more akin to a mentor. 

Lucien’s response was limited to a grunt and a glare, however he soon gave up and sighed a "fine", although Basch was certain he had no intention to actually fulfill such a promise. Laura seemed to reach the same conclusion, as she rolled her eyes and gave him a final look of frustration, before turning around and returning back to her bubbly self, starting to provide instructions on how to arrange the rather cramped living area.

The beds remained in their opposite corners of the room. Although the desks which had previously stood against each other in between them (a placement which made Basch rather stressed, as he was faced with the back of the chair he occupied when trying to study each night), were stacked on top of each other and moved to the opposite wall in order to leave access to the windows, as well as allow a bigger open space in the room’s centre. The chairs were left behind, as the wheels allowed for them to be easily moved; and additional seating was always required. The nightstands were moved to the foot of the beds, again to allow the space in the centre to be as free as possible.

"Alright then !" Laura exclaimed, once they had arranged the furniture satisfyingly. "Now, which bed should be the Hangout couch-"

"Not mine" Basch interrupted,

"- and which one should be the Make-out one ?"

"I beg your pardon ?"

Laura grinned, and despite seeing her approach him, Basch had no chance to defend himself against her pinching his cheeks. The way she had to lean down made it especially embarrassing, considering she was nearly a decimeter taller than him. 

"Sorry, I somehow manage to forget you’re such a hermit, and ’not a party-person’ - I think it's a good idea for house-parties to make sure to have a couch or something reserved for the couples who can’t keep their hands to themselves, you know ?" She raised her eyebrows playfully, urging Basch to scowl at her teasing, "Typically, I would’ve suggested your bed, since mine faces the door, however I’ll make an exception, considering." Her smile was warm, yet it still somehow succeed to make him even more flustered. "The shelf does shield it a bit from the entrance, so it should be cool."

He managed to give her a curt nod, before turning around to get his phone in order to have something to distract him from his growing apprehension. Opening it, he found a message from his sister, saying "Have fun at the gathering tonight! I’m sure Laura’s friends are delightful, and that you’ll enjoy a pleasant evening together." accompanied by the two pink hearts and the rabbit emoticon she used with enough frequency, seeing anyone but her use it made Basch cringe. In response, he thanked her (no emoticons used), however in reality he was begrudging the chance to express his unease. One of his biggest concerns was the language barrier - he’d been practising his English with Laura; as in, she’d initiated a few conversations in English and pretended not to understand his French, and the very first conversation made it clear he was nowhere near as bad as he thought. His largest issue, Laura had mused, way too comfortable in the role of an armchair psychologist, was his uncertainty, rather than his actual skillset. To which Basch had replied that he did struggle understanding others, unless they spoke agonisingly slow and even more clear. 

Feeling his anxiety begin to crawl beneath his skin once more, with the heavy root resting in his stomach, feeding on any kind of anticipation he may have felt, replacing it with more dread. In search of a distraction, he began scrolling through his other contacts, only to once more be reminded by his blatant loneliness; the list including the contact information to his immediate family, his father’s girlfriend, his grandmother, and some old colleagues he’d simply not bothered to remove. With a sigh he turned his head up towards the wall, his eyes meeting the cross which hung above Laura’s bed. When choosing a christian-ish accommodation, he’d done so in the hopes of avoiding parties - clearly, he’d been mistaken.

Finally, following another hour and a half, the clock struck 20; the time from which people were allowed to start dropping in. They had moved the desks once more, keeping one of them pressed against the wall, whilst the other was placed directly beneath the window close to the inner - Basch’s - bed; on top of which pillows and a blanket had been placed, turning it into a kind of sitting place, although Basch worried whether it could truly hold so much weight. The remaining table was turned into a drinks-and-snacks table, close to the stereo which was on top of Basch’s cabinet in the corner. 

When the first few knocks against the door were finally heard five past eight, Laura and Lucien were far too engrossed in conversation to be willing to depart from their position in front of the stereo. Laura asked Basch to open the door in her stead; although saying no was hardly an option. Uncomfortable being the person welcoming people he’d never met to a party he didn’t really want, Basch reluctantly approached the door, opening it as slow as he could without appearing strange.

The woman who appeared in front of him must have been even shorter than his sister, and Basch was immediately thrown off guard by his inability to place her age; she could’ve been 16 as well as 36, both seemed equally likely. For whilst her tawny, tanned beige skin seemed at first glance flawless, and whilst her rounded cheeks softened her features, a youthfulness which was only enhanced by the long and abundant, but seemingly natural, eyelashes framing her eyes in a way which was almost doll-like. Something about her dark, hickory eyes told another, longer, story. However, at a closer look, one could find the briefest traces of some faint fine lines resting upon her forehead. Which, much like his own, would normally have been covered by her dark brown fringe, which was currently brushed to the side; likely having reached a length slightly too long for it not to disturb her line of sight. By her ear rested a pink flower, which looked too perfect to be real, but lacked the artificiality of plastic.

"Hello" he finally floundered, realising he’s been staring far too long for what would be considered appropriate. "I’m Basch, Laura’s roommate." He offered his hand, hoping his accent wasn’t too abhorrent, and his uncertainty wasn’t all too clear; although the raise of her left eyebrow indicated otherwise. 

"Greetings, I’m Lin Yi Ling, a friend of Laura’s," she answered, slower than the pace of an ordinary conversation, but not slow enough to be patronizing. Any expression he’d previously feared judgemental vanished within a millisecond, instantly replaced by a bright smile, radiant enough to outshine that of Laura. "Nice meeting you!" She continued, as Basch stepped to the side, allowing her entrance. He was just about to answer, when he saw in the corner of his eye another person approach the door, albeit more cautiously. 

"Hello!" Ling chimed in, obviously having spotted the newcomer as well, "Are you here for Laura?" She continued speaking slowly enough for Basch to pick up on her words, and Basch wondered if she merely spoke like this, or if she was extraordinarily observant, and along with it considerate.

The new girl was slightly taller than Basch himself, and had her long, chestnut hair tied in a loose ponytail which fell low on her back. Her sharp eyes coloured by woody brown and permeated by gold, emitting a sense of mystery Basch couldn’t quite describe. Only her nose evaded the sharpness otherwise found in her cheekbones, jaw, and aforementioned eyes, as it was wide and quite flat. Finally, her skin had a darker and colder colour than that of Lin, and she also lacked the paleness which Basch presumed from extended living in a place with less sun. The woman presented herself with a quiet kind of confidence - her head held high, and her posture was impeccable, and whilst she appeared cautious, it was not as the hesitation of a prey, but the consideration of a predator.

"I am," she answered, shortly but not impolitely, "My name is Trần Chung Liên"

"I’m Ling Yi Ling!" Ling replied, approaching the woman with a vibrant smile, "It’s a pleasure meeting you!"

Basch, feeling intrusive standing beside the two women who’d swiftly engaged in conversation, didn’t follow as the two of them retreated to another corner of the room, leaving him by the entrance. As he looked for a new place to hide, he noticed, to his utter dismay, that there had only been a mere 15 minutes since he checked the time last; and he was already exhausted. Caught up in his own thoughts, Basch didn’t notice the door opening once more, and was thus hit by it as an offensively tall man stepped through. 

"Sorry," the man said rather offhandedly, blowing away an imaginary strand of hair from his face, as it was all carefully styled in a dramatic quiff upwards. His eyes were olive green, and he wore a blue-and-white striped scarf styled in a matter indicating it was for style, rather than function.

"Watch where you’re going next time," Basch grumbled, missing the look he was given by the stranger as he was occupied with brushing off imaginary dust from his arm. 

"I’m Herman," the stranger started, stretching out his hand towards Basch, "Laura’s older brother."

Basch scowled at himself inwardly - of course he’d let his temper slip in front of Laura’s _brother_ , albeit temporarily. "I’m Basch, her roommate," he replied, "Nice meeting you."

Herman merely grunted in response, before moving on to greet Laura, who was currently greeting her previous guests. Lucien was the first to notice the new arrival, and immediately went to hug him welcome, following which Laura immediately threw herself in her brother’s arms. At least knowing they were close, made Basch less suspicious of the tall man; if only slightly. As Basch began to close the door, still distracted by the family reunion taking place in front of him; despite having only been away from Erika for less than a month, he missed the three people arriving, and almost shut the door in their faces had they not pushed against him.

"Now, my friend, I thought this was a party, non?" The Frenchman Basch had already met, Francis, started, and once more Basch was stunned over how epitomical his French was, "Shutting the door on one’s guests is the opposite of hospitality, is it not?" He teased, and Basch felt his face heat up. He let go of the door handle, and allowed the newcomers to step inside. Alongside Francis was another man with shorter, more sunflower blond hair, with monstrous eyebrows which were impossible to ignore, as well as a short young woman with the same sandy blond hair, with a rectangle pair of glasses before her cobalt blue eyes; also the same as those of Francis’. 

"Now that’s better is it not ?" Francis continued playfully, however before he had the chance to say anything else, the man next to him swiftly elbowed him, efficiently silencing him.

"I apologize Francis’ behaviour, he doesn’t know when to quit," he started, obviously unaccustomed to speaking French, before reaching out to shake Basch’s hand, "I’m Arthur, I presume you’re Laura’s roommate?" His olive green eyes looked at him with something Basch couldn’t identify as pity nor compassion - but it gave him the sense that Arthur related to his position as a nervous stranger uncomfortable in crowds. Or perhaps this was merely what Basch wanted to see.

Basch nodded, before remembering he’d need to say his name as well, "Basch, and yes I am."

"I’m Lucille," the girl said when he moved on to shake her outstretched hand, "Francis’ younger sister - I’m here on a visit." Despite being Francis’ sister, her accent was entirely different, making Basch wonder if they’d grown up in different parts of the country, or if it was a conscious effort on behalf of one of them.

"Lucille ! I haven’t seen you in ages - how are you ?" Laura shrieked excitedly, spinning the girl around as she hugged her welcome. Basch noted this was the second time Laura had picked someone shorter than her up to spin them around, wanting to avoid a similar fate in the potential future. When the French girl was finally allowed back down on the floor, she regained her footing with immaculate ease, as though the spinning had done nothing to affect her balance. She smiled amicably towards the taller girl in front of her, and despite it rarely registering as a smile when compared with the wide one seen on Laura’s face, it was unmistakably genuine.

Finding his chance to get away, Basch quickly retreated to his bed-turned-sofa, going from feeling awkward standing up, to feeling awkward sitting down. Watching the scene taking place in front of him, he found that nobody seemed to be left by their lonesome; as in, nobody stood on the side, seemingly out of place. Laura was chatting with Francis, and Arthur - all of whom somehow managed to be involved in the conversation. Lucille and Lucien had quickly found each other, and looked as though they were catching up with each other’s lives, as the occasional congratulatory gestures were exchanged between them. Herman was introducing himself to Trần and Ling, chuckling at some joke which Basch presumed had been shared by Ling. Watching the party play out from his corner, Basch couldn’t help but feel lonely. He blamed his reclusiveness on his insecurity when speaking English, however deep down he knew this was a lie he told himself in order to feel better about not daring to talk to people, even when he rationally knew the worst thing that could happen was some awkwardness; which he felt regardless.

As the evening progressed, Basch remained in his corner, trying not to creepily watch the others socialise. It all happened in a bit of a haze, however this was soon interrupted by Laura’s shrieking voice saying (screaming) "Welcome go Bible study! We’re all children of Jesus here!" Followed by an intoxicated giggle which somehow was warm enough not to make Basch’s skin crawl of annoyance. 

A few minutes later, she was suddenly standing in front of him, wearing a scowl which he’d typically associate with a concerned mother.

"You speak Italian, right?" She asked, her French pronunciation a bit clumsier than usual, but still better than most non-native speakers. Her cheerful tone posed a great contrast to her facial expressions which screamed ’You haven’t had a single conversation extending beyond introductions yet’.

"It’s better than my English" Basch answered, uncommitedly. His father had taught him Italian in his youth, since he was originally from the Italian-speaking parts of the country, something which had irked his mother’s French/German speaking family - where especially her father’s German part of the family looked down upon the Italian-speakers. Although it was still his third language, and one he’d only ever used when communicating with relatives.

"Good!" Laura beamed, and grabbed his hand. Dragging him the supposedly two and a half meters across the room, pushing aside at least 4 guests on their way there. Whilst Basch had been hiding in the corner, the small size of their room had become more and more apparent, as it was already far too crowded for comfort. She stopped them before a mahogany haired boy, who was seated on the drawer next to the plant by the foot of Laura’s bed. He looked almost as uncomfortable as Basch felt.

"Hey Lovino, you should meet Basch! He speaks Italian, just like you! Antonio told me where you’re from, so I thought maybe you two could get together and chat! Drinks?" Laura greeted the brunette, her beaming smile presenting a quite jarring juxtaposition to the scowling Italian. Both of them shook their head to decline, at the same time as Laura decided to push Basch down in the edge of the bed, dooming him to stay there long enough to at least attempt conversation, before skipping off to join Lucille, Lucien, and someone who looked eerily similar to the Italian Basch had just been introduced to.

"Hello" the stranger, Lovino, greeted. Clearly not pleased about the situation, seemingly not making even the slightest effort to conceal his displeasure.

"This is pretty dumb" Lovino continued, to which Basch could only make a non-commital sound. The party didn’t suck just because he wasn’t enjoying it - most everyone else seemed to be doing fine, after all. His hesitance was clearly not appreciated, so Basch quickly tried to change the topic.

"So… you’re from Italy, then?" he started, pausing slightly to figure out how to continue, "How did you end up in Vienna?"

"I got a job" Lovino answered shortly, "You?"

"Studying. Economy."

His reply was merely a nod, and following an uncomfortable eternity of silence, where neither seemed to care enough to save the not-quite-alive conversation, both delivered some weak excuse to dismiss themselves, fleeing from their current situation. However, upon discovering that the sofa across the room - _Basch’s_ bed - had been occupied by Francis and his boyfriend, currently snogging in a far too intimate manner to be considered anything but inappropriate, Basch immediately abandoned the idea to retreat to his former position. Not wanting to linger in the crowded centre for longer than necessary, however, Basch quickly escaped to the exit, fleeing into the corridor.

The cool air of the corridor hit him immediately, and it was first upon noticing this contrast he realised how stifling the room had become, as the oxygen had rapidly been replaced by carbon dioxide through the evening. The corridor was mostly empty, since most of its occupants were attending Laura’s party - the only exception was himself, as well as the pair chatting further down the hallway; although they had thankfully not noticed him yet. He recognised only one of them as the inhabitants of the room furthest down the corridor - a tall, mostly quiet, Canadian, Basch had only exchanged greetings with the first time they met; he spoke French, Basch remembered, although his name evaded him. Next to him was a much shorter man with black hair, probably of eastern Asian descent.  The two had seemingly been engrossed in conversation until Basch seemingly took them out of their haze- as the Canadian seemed to have an abandoned plate of food next to him, whilst the black haired man had his coat folded beside him. And he felt slightly guilty watching them stand up and leave for, what he presumed to be, the Canadian’s room, leaving the floor they’d just been occupying. 

Not wanting to linger in the corridor for too long, Basch moved towards the kitchen, hiding in its shadows as he leant against one of its walls to close his eyes and pretend as though his room hadn’t been occupied by drunk strangers. 

As soon as this calm had been discovered, however, it was brutally invaded upon, as the door to his and Laura’s room was kicked open, allowing a tanned, chestnut-haired man to drag out the Italian Basch had been speaking with earlier. Lovino was obviously fuming with anger, and was seemingly only held back from rushing back into the room by the grip of the other man. Feeling awkward possibly intruding upon their obvious unease - as well as having no interest whatsoever in any potential conflict - Basch reassured his hiding place in the shadows, trying to get as far into the kitchen as he could without making a sound, in an attempt to escape hearing whatever the two were saying about the incident they either avoided or which just occured. Remembering he’d kept his earphones in his pockets, he felt a rush of immense gratitude for his past life. Hurryingly, he detangled the wires, as he connected them to his phone, drowning the background noises in favour of the sound of electric guitars, drums, and bass. Allowing himself to slide down and sit on the floor - which was surprisingly clean, considering it was a kitchen shared by an entire corridor of young adults, he leant back against the kitchen counter, closing his eyes while pretending to be unaware of the situation in the next room.

He stayed there for a while, staring into the darkness in front of him, allowing his pulse to finally find calm after he’d been on high alert for most of the evening. This peace, however, was soon interrupted by someone callously turning on the light, making his eyes sting from the sudden change. Swiftly turning off is music, and ripping off his earphones, he frantically blinked to adjust to the new setting as the footsteps of whoever just entered the kitchen approached him. 

"Hiding away from the party, I see" spoke the German voice above him, and as he looked up he met the indigo eyes of the only person who had been anything but polite to him.

"What are you doing here; What do you want?" Basch sighed as he retreated from his sitting position in order to once more stand up, finding it uncomfortable to speak to someone standing up whilst he was sitting down.

"Well, kitchens typically have glass and water - I came to get it." was Roderick’s reply, before he moved towards the sink with a glass in hand.

"There are glasses in our room, as well as a bathroom with a fully functionable sink."

"I don’t need to defend my decision not to wait for the bathroom to be available when there’s a sink here."

Basch glared at him, however he was left without an equally witty answer. He did not want to argue - it was the last thing he wanted; and not only because he couldn’t help but hold on to a memory which Roderick had seemingly forgotten, but due to the simple fact that conflicts took more effort than they were worth.

"Silence is not a great look on you, dear" Roderick then continued, once the silence had stretched long enough for Basch’s choice to refrain from answering to become apparent. Unwillingly, Basch felt his face flush, and once more he was thankful for the fact that even when his face burned with embarrassment, he would never blush.

"I- " he started, but quickly changed his mind, "Don’t patronize me!" 

 

Before Roderick had the chance to answer, however, a shrill giggle could be heard entering the hall outside. "Basch? Roddy!" They could hear Laura shout right outside the kitchen entrance, before entering and laying her eyes upon them. "I have news, _fantastique_!" She continued, clearly intoxicated, her voice hitching on the final syllable, leading her into another fit of giggles. Basch, ignoring the ominous indications of whatever her announcement might be, quickly snatched the beer she was still holding in her hand, worried she might spill over herself (and their room). However, finding that she’d been drinking just a tad bit too much, he replaced it with a glass of water, although he gestured for her to move less dramatically. He emptied the half-full can of beer in the sink, which earned him a glare and a punch on his arm which had just a little too much force to be entirely playful.

"What are you up to, Laura?" Roderick asked, his french near-excellent. Which only increased Basch’s irritated confusion over their initial meeting since he moved here, where Roderick hadn’t relayed Basch’s french-speaking capabilities to Laura and Francis, resulting in them first discovering this following Roderick’s departure.

"I-" she dragged out the I, however, soon interrupted herself by snickering once more, flashing a mischievous grin as she did so, "We-ll,  told me about this language-learning thingy he’s part of - a thing where foreign students from any Vienna university can attend and meet other students from other countries in order to learn German," she took a sip of water, although her face revealed clear disappointment once she found it wasn’t her beer, "So, he told me they were desperately short on people - especially folks speaking languages other than English." Another smile, although Basch was growing more and more nauseous for each word, "Sooo I volunteered the two of you! Both of you speak like, a thousand languages - and it can be good for your English as well, Basch. It also looks like, supergood on your resume, and gives the two of you the chance to spend more time together!"

Basch stared at her with wide eyes, wishing desperately that she was only making some sick joke. He had a job, and he had his studies - he was already busy. Nor did he even know this person Laura was speaking of. Worst of all, however, was the indication that he and Roderick would ever want to spend more time together than what would be absolutely necessary.

He was just about to voice these concerns, when Roderick’s voice shocked him to silence,

"That sounds delightful, Laura."

**Author's Note:**

> ngl three chapters in and I am still struggling with these characters so much. I know I have made certain adjustments for theme and plot, buuuut yeah.


End file.
